Epiphany
by Rinon Toros
Summary: Irvine/Fiona. Based between the season 1 and 2 span and dipping into later into the second season further into the story.
1. Epiphany - 1

Title: Epiphany.  
  
Rating: For the most part, it's PG-13, though there is a chapter that will be R, I believe.  
  
Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.  
  
Notes: Based upon the ( my favorite ) song by Radiohead, 'Creep.' Mostly a verse and the chorus: 'When you were here before / Couldn't look you in the eye / You're just like an angel / Your skin makes me cry / You float like a feather / In a beautiful world / I wish I was special / You're so fucking special / But I'm a creep / I'm a weirdo / What the hell am I doing here? / I don't belong here.'  
  
It's.. probably not what you'll expect it to be. Expect updates to be erratic. AND YES, I HAVE DECIDED THAT THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF 'I DON'T CARE!' Yaaay!!  
  
- - - -  
  
She coaxed lightly at the thin layer of dust and dirt upon something that could have very well been considered plain wall, if it weren't for the fact that a number of intricate carvings lined the entire whole of it, alternating between the deft tips of her fingers and the subtle tips of the brush. The dust and dirt crumbled away easily at the alternations, revealing indentations of swirls, of possible characters, of – a face?  
  
Using the back of the hand, which gripped the brush, she nudged the facemask from her mouth and gently breathed. The brush was pinned between her knees for a moment and, cupping her hands over her mouth, she all but hollered a singsong, "Doctor D!"  
  
Taking no time to wait, she rubbed at her nose gently and pushed the mask back up, before returning to her work. Tedious and backbreaking as it may have been, she particularly enjoyed it – especially since it told her of the history she had long since forgotten.  
  
The face was incredibly large in contrast to anything else she had uncovered. While the wall itself was a good four meters high and six, possibly seven, meters wide, she guessed the face itself spanned over an ample sixteen square feet of space – more than half! Carvings of faces and imprints of hands weren't uncommon, though this was, undoubtedly, the largest of the finds.  
  
She tirelessly worked at brushing away the film, listening as the slow, paced amble of her 'boss' echoed down the corridor. She glanced to the side in time to see him come into view; his arms folded behind his back, the baldhead capped within a white bandana while the rest of his hair was pulled back and out of the way. While his face was covered with a mask similar to her own, she supposed he was grinning – maybe he already knew of the face.  
  
"A new good find, I suppose?" He inquired joyfully, lifting up one hand, which clutched the handle of a lantern lightly. It added to the dull, artificial light greatly, illuminating the face, the carvings, while casting suspicious shadows over everything else. It reminded her, though distantly, of Raven..  
  
Suppressing a light shudder, she nodded and beamed. "I think so!" Her response was muffled within the thickness of the mask and she removed it once more to allow herself to speak freely. She set the brush down upon the small table holding numerous other brushes and motioned. "I think it's a face."  
  
"Indeed," The Doctor breathed as he took in the sight. Before long did he clasp his hands before himself and nod his head toward it carefully. "Look – it seems to have your hair."  
  
"I don't think I'm worthy of a statue, Doctor D." She stuffed her mask back up over her mouth before her blush could go seen and lowered her head in appreciation. Compliments might have been nice, though they weren't her area of expertise.  
  
"We'll know soon enough, dear Fiona, soon enough!" He laughed jovially and thrust the lantern toward the wall once more. The face did have her hair; ear tails, that awkward diamond-shaped tuft haloing the back of her head, finished off by a thick bundle of extra hair which seemed to be of no absolute use.  
  
The face itself, however, was lacking clarity. It could be seen even through the thick layer of dust upon its hard surface. They all did.  
  
"Hmm," The Doctor lowered the lantern, frowning mildly beneath the mask. He patted Fiona upon the back lightly with his free hand. "Take a break. You can deal with this later – or tomorrow."  
  
"I'm fine –"  
  
"Go on!" He motioned toward the exit; a small, pinpoint of light down the long, intricately pattered corridor. "It's not going anywhere!"  
  
- - - -  
  
She would have preferred to be working with a brush, rather than stirring ample amounts of salt into the delicious, dark depths of the strong coffee someone had made before hand. Probably one of the soldiers, per request by Doctor D.  
  
She didn't whine or pout, nonetheless, enjoying her moment away from the mental nagging, away from having to force herself to remember something that just – wasn't there. She sighed contentedly and took the spoon from the cup, placing it upon a tissue folded neatly near by. She palmed the cup carefully, not wanting to burn herself on accident, and sipped.  
  
While she grew warm and possibly even tired from the liquid, the outside itself went from bright, to rosy, to dark, giving way to the duo of crecentric moons: the only illumination, besides their artificial lighting.  
  
Even that grew dull. Soldiers went in, went out, smiled and chatted with her cheerfully, drank and ate, before heading in for the night, retiring to their roomy tents in hope for a night full of blissful sleep, lacking the war which once ravaged the already barren lands. They always got it, of course – Ban Freiheit was around. He could protect even the most danger prone person with ease! He was, after all, the hero whom defeated the Deathsaurer!  
  
She briefly wondered how Ban was, as she refilled her coffee, stirring in another ample amount of salt before returning to her rhythmic sipping. And where was Doctor D? Wasn't he trailing her earlier, when she had first entered the tent? The gentle chirping of random night insects told her that midnight was drawing near. Did he retire to his own tent without bidding her a good night? And, jeez, how she wanted to get back to that wall, just for another peek..  
  
Okay, that was it. She set her mug down and stood up, taking her tissue along with her. She dabbled at the corners of her mouth before replacing id down upon the table. She was going to look. Doctor D was probably there still! Why he could uncover it and she could not was beyond her – she had done worse before, after all!  
  
Tucking the chair back under the cover of the table, she walked briskly toward the tent flap, where upon a table, her gloves and mask remain discarded. She took the trio of objects and, with a fleeting glance about the campsite, she jogged off in the direction of the ruin, which, as she had guessed, still had a number of lights focused down upon the entrance way, winding all the way into the innards, as far as she could see.  
  
The utter silence within walls of the ruin was broken by the gentle crunching of the rubber sole of her boots against the scattered, erratic bunches of gravel. How that had triggered someone to dive out of no where at her from behind, was beyond all reason and logic –  
  
Wait.  
  
She dropped the gloves and the mask and found herself struggling vainly against a grip far stronger than her own. She wished, at that moment, that she were still very much asleep within the stasis pod, unable to endure the pain, which seared through her shoulders and her upper back. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and prepared to scream – though her mouth was clamped over by a hand and, after a brief pause of recognition, she was twirled to face this assailant.  
  
With wide eyes and a gentle gasp, she wrenched her arms free of the bruising grasp and stumbled back, the emotions radiating from her alternating between fear and happiness. Whoever it was took the time to sheepishly grin at her and cast his gaze aside, as though fearing a scornful look from the small blonde.  
  
"Sorry about that, Fiona." 


	2. Epiphany - 2

Title: Epiphany.  
  
Rating: For the most part, it's PG-13, though there is a chapter that will be R, I believe.  
  
Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.  
  
Notes: …  
  
Boxers, or briefs? You know how long I spent pondering over that question? WHAT the hell would Irvine wear? .. I asked people. Someone told me, 'nothing! I'm sure he'd like to be free!,' another person told me, 'Dude, you have problems.' Probably. n.n I dunno. Oohh, well. It's over and done with, but feel free to tell me what you think, bwahaha!  
  
- - - -  
  
She was torn between pouncing on the man larger than her and swatting him upside the head, and pouncing and hugging him – maybe she should kick both into action and injure him while hugging him at the same time.  
  
Either way, a definite flood of relief coursed through her veins and she felt her gasping reduced to regulated breathing once more. Before long, she was smiling – nearly glowing with happiness, as she hadn't seen this friend in a dreadfully, though excitingly, long year – and quick at gathering her fallen materials up before they could go forgotten.  
  
"Irvine," Her tone held a somewhat scolding tilt to it, nonetheless. She brushed her hands off on the towel that hung over her skirt and pulled the gloves back on swiftly. "You shouldn't creep up on people like that, you know."  
  
"I didn't know it would be you I was creeping up on." He responded nonchalantly, seemingly nearly nonplussed by her statement. He kept his gaze diverted and a smug grin upon his face, like a child holding the key to some important secret he would never let go. She squared her gaze upon him and pulled the strap of the mask over her head, allowing it in whole to dangle about her neck like a light, white necklace.  
  
"Irvine –" Her brows knit together and she frowned. "You – aren't supposed to be here, are you?"  
  
"Here is good," He responded with an air of conclusion and coughed quietly. The 'key' to his 'secret' began to faintly remind her of a game of hide and seek the soldiers where chattering about a day ago, when one of their younger children arrived unannounced. "At least for now."  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
What a question that was. While the corridor was lit, he was tucked within a shadow as though he were a piece of it himself, the only thing, for the most part, visible being his face and a good portion of his upper body. He was crouching, possibly because he was too tall to be hiding in this certain area, possibly because –  
  
Her eyes leveled upon his hands, which were pressed, heel first, into the upper portion of his thigh. Rivulets of blood seeped through the cracks of his fingers, staining the tan of his flesh, the onyx of his pants – it didn't look like it was very interested in stopping, even with the added pressure around it, either.  
  
"You're bleeding!" She blurted, as though informing him of something he didn't know. He shot her a, 'gee, really?' look and grimaced, preparing to limp away from her. If she were to lead him out of the ruins, the people – the ones who had caused the injury – would surely see him and that would be it! "Stop moving!"  
  
She hooked an arm around his own and, with an almost inhumane grip, began leading him toward the entrance of the ruins, albeit slowly. He made an attempt to recoil, but that only made her determination grow stronger.  
  
Most men had such a horrible grip on reality. Hmph. Trying to limp away..  
  
- - - -  
  
"Take your pants off." She struggled with the sentence, trying to conceal a furious, almost angry blush by keeping her head canted away. The expression upon his face after he had registered the command was absolutely priceless – shock and utter confusion. He, amusingly, grasped at the belt of his pants, either considering actually doing it or refusing it indefinitely.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I can't reach your wound through the pants, that's why." She looked back at him, still unable to make the violent blush subside. He realized the voiced fact as well and found himself torn between grinning and taking advantage of the situation – he could probably go as far as to traumatize her! – or he could oblige. Without word.  
  
..  
  
He gave a resigned sign and she turned, retrieving a small stack of objects, which involved a thin sheet, numerous rags, a bottle of clear, foully scented liquid and a thin, long strip of metal, which resembled tweezers, with a rounded end instead of a pointed.  
  
Though first, she handed him a roll of tissues and gauze, before busying herself with the shelf.  
  
"It's a..?" She canted her head back toward him and left the question hanging over his head, missing the sight of him clumsily, stiffly moving from the cot to work at the numerous buckles about his waist. She stacked the needed items against herself within an arm, moving as quickly as possible. To leave a friend in pain would be almost as horrible as offering her aide to Raven himself.  
  
"Bullet wound." He answered tightly and unzipped, unclasped and worked the pants down the length of his legs. Upon hearing the belts clank against the ground, she threw the sheet back at him, keeping from looking him in the face until he was covered – just in case. He caught in the hand, which didn't hold the gauze without much effort, though through the corner of her eye, she caught him grimacing so heavily it looked like he was nearing tears.  
  
He looked down at the sheet momentarily before seating himself once more, having to shift insistently to keep from adding useless pressure. He gingerly laid a wad of tissues upon the wound, allowing it to absorb some of the blood, placed the gauze aside and folded the sheet out across himself. There wasn't much to reveal, unless if she were to blush over the sight of his legs – but it was Fiona, after all.  
  
"I'm not entirely sure if it works, but –"  
  
"I'm fine," He ground out as sweetly as possible and squeezed his eyes closed. He had this happen once before; the pain was unbearable and – he sighed, "Just – remove it."  
  
"I'm sorry." She turned back toward him and smiled in an attempt to lighten the situation, though it didn't. She sighed as well and retreated back toward the table, placing the material upon the foot of it. "I can give you something to put you asleep afterward, if that is what you want."  
  
"Yeah." He answered shortly and curled his fingers around the metal edge of the cot. She gently, reassuringly rubbed his chest and beamed.  
  
"Just lay back." She continued to lightly coax him down, as he obliged, removing her hand only after he was absolutely horizontal to the ground. "I promise it wont hurt."  
  
.. And, surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as it could have. She was coaxing at the skin about the wound with a swab of cotton, digging out the mediocre sized piece of metal from his thigh with the tweezers. He did little more than cringe and groan, though was soon blinking in confusion, tipping his head downward to see what, exactly, she had done. She held up a small, glass container filled to the brim with liquid, the bullet upon the bottom, an even wider smile pasted upon her face as he sent her a confused, though nonetheless thankful look. Trails of remnants of his blood crept off it with the water, blending to make the water a dull, almost translucent, red shade. She shook it lightly.  
  
"I can't guarantee the pain will remain gone, so –" She turned and retreated back to the area beside the shelve, placing the container upon a small table and capping it. "Stay still for another minute, then you can get a full, comfortable, nights rest."  
  
"Thanks, Fiona." He breathed, astonished, as he ran a finger over the area outside the wound. She returned to his side with a bandage and more gauze, and began wrapping it up swiftly and tightly.  
  
"Too tight?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Alright," She beamed and hurried off to a collapsible closet just to the right of the both of them, taking out a single pair of hospital pants from a tall pile. Her smile grew wide and incredibly amused as he scowled at the pants, handing them to him just as swiftly. "Your pants will probably agitated the wound, so there is something you can change into. I'll wait outside."  
  
He nodded and she retreated, sticking to her word once more as he could see her silhouette against the thick red of the tent. 


	3. Epiphany - 3

Title: Epiphany.  
  
Rating: PG-13.  
  
Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.  
  
Notes: The sleee-epy chapter. That really doesn't do much but take up space and give crazy-haired Doctor D time to vent and act annoyed. Think of him as a makeshift father figure. :D  
  
Oh, yeah. I'm not a doctor and I've probably got the timing for how long it would take Irvine's injury to heal. So, um, deal with it and don't get annoyed, ne? If you can correct me, do so, and I'll change and credit you for it.  
  
Oh.. and due to a request, I'm gonna try to get Raven into this. I don't know how, but I shall attempt! .. Somehow. Or, I think I'm actually going to start a Raven-centric fic soon. So, I dunno.  
  
- - - -  
  
"Fiiooonaaa!" Was the distraught wail of Doctor D, which shook her to life immediately, taking a grip upon her consciousness that refused to let her fall back into bliss. That, or the fact that she was curled so awkwardly into the basket chair she had crashed within after leading Irvine into the tent, that she couldn't fall back asleep.  
  
She yawned into her palm and groggily kneaded at her eyes with the heel of her hand, before opening her eyes to cast a hazy gaze upon the old, old man. She smiled sleepily. "Yes, Doctor D?"  
  
"Why is there a man in your bed?"  
  
"Mm?" She looked in the direction of the bed; only the hair was peeking out over the boundless expanse of blankets she had piled atop Irvine the night before. She laughed quietly and shook her head, heaving herself from the chair. She sluggishly walked toward the bed and, knowing he wouldn't be able to respond, gingerly pulled back the corner of the blanket to reveal the sleeping face of Irvine.  
  
"Irvine?" He wailed once more and Fiona had to get in his way to keep him from diving at Irvine and glomping him. He shot her an awkward look as she neatly folded the blanket corner back and kept herself in his way. "What's he doing here and why is he in your bed?"  
  
"Shh," She took him by the elbow and led him from the tent. Irvine stirred though didn't toss, subconsciously reminding himself that the injury still existed. "I think he needs to sleep."  
  
"You look like you need to sleep!" Doctor D blurted, noting the faint rings about her eyes. "How can we possibly get any work done when my protégé is half alive today?"  
  
"He showed up with a bullet wound and I fixed it." She responded lightly and, covering her mouth, yawned once more. She rolled her shoulders back and stretched. "What time is it, Doctor D?"  
  
"Early." He frowned and clasped an arm about her waist and urged her in the direction of his own tent. She stumbled, though willingly went along – until she realized where she was going and halted. "Go on and sleep. You look like you need it, Fiona."  
  
"No – I can't." She ducked under the arm and rubbed her eyes once more. "I told him I would be there when he woke."  
  
"Fiona –"  
  
"No." She shook her head and ducked beneath his arm, flashing him an apologetic smile. "I need to."  
  
- - - -  
  
When he did wake, the first thing he did was bolt upright and shoot a wild look around the room, as though he had no idea where he was and had currently been considering the reasons as to why he was currently there. However, that came to an abrupt end as the pain seared through his thigh once more and he moaned, collapsing back onto his back, stirring the, once more, sleeping Fiona from her rest.  
  
She sat dazed for a brief moment, registering the noise, before diving to her feet and almost collapsing to reach the bedside in time. She kneaded her eyes and frowned. "Irvine – you shouldn't have moved!"  
  
"As if I could remember that!" He snapped in return and rolled upon his left side, and rubbed lightly at the wrapping upon the wound. That, contrary to his belief, did not make it any better. He moaned again and even whined. "What the Hell! I thought your stuff would make it feel better!"  
  
"No –" She sighed and circled her hands about his wrist, pulling it from the injury. She held it against her chest in an attempt to keep him from taking it back. It worked. "And stop that. You'll hurt yourself worse."  
  
"Fiona!" He stared at her, fingers instinctively flexing to curl about her own. While he had, indeed, seen her hands numerous times before, he had never actually felt them. Her hands were small, delicate and held an instinctive cold to them..  
  
No. Not this again. Suffering is fine once, though twice – no.  
  
"Sleep." She smiled tiredly and placed his hand back upon the blankets, ignoring his writhing and cringing. She found herself moving back to the chair she had slept with in, at the head of the bed, and sitting once more, folding her hands within her lap. She focused upon the door.  
  
"Oh, as if that'll be possible." He grimaced and, suddenly, reached up to rubbed at either eye – He blinked his right eye and tipped his head back to look at her. His eyes still held traces of the tears of pain – she felt rather bad for him. "Where's my patch?"  
  
"Here." She motioned to a small table beside her chair and, as she had said, there it sat. "You shouldn't sleep with it on. Are you hungry?"  
  
"Not really." He cast his gaze away and frowned, trying to block out the pain with thoughts of false realities where she –  
  
"You'll need to eat soon and I don't think you'll be able to walk properly so," She smiled still and beamed, standing up once more to tuck the blankets about him in a more than motherly fashion. He turned a dangerous shade of red and attempted to hide it beneath a cover of the blankets vainly. She held up her index finger and winked cheerfully, "I'll have something sent in soon! I'm going to be in the ruins today, so if you need me just – yell. Really loud."  
  
"U-Uh huh."  
  
"Sleep." She repeated, her tone still cheerful, and she traced her steps backwards out of the tent, before swiftly melting into the bright, lucid blue of the sky.  
  
- - - -  
  
He was hungry and yet, the violent pain refused to let him eat. His stomach lurched with his movements and the most he wanted to do, that very moment, was hit himself in the leg and then go torture the jerk who shot him.  
  
But – ah, yeah, right.  
  
He moaned despairingly and, much to his own distaste, pushed himself upright. He was to his feet and wobbling violently moments afterward, contemplating his choices. Flee and, most likely, collapse just inches before he could reach the entrance or exit way of the campsite, or he could stay. And suffer immensely through further embarrassment and frustration due to mixed emotions.  
  
"Going somewhere?" Came the innocent inquiry from the doorway and, due to it, he fell backward onto the bed once again, landing less than gracefully sprawled upon his back. He sighed loudly in annoyance.  
  
"Nope. Not me."  
  
"I hope not." Fiona watched him in confusion for a moment, before continuing into the tent and across it toward a number of furnished objects. Splatters of dust upon the front and back of her clothes were apparently of no matter to her as she shoved through a collapsible closet, eventually coming back out with a small case of small objects, which clanked together curiously. "Are you hungry?"  
  
"My leg hurts," He muttered and pushed himself into an upright position once more, extending his leg flat over the bed top. She looked about the room, stuffing the small pouch into the large, front pocket of her skirt, locating the plate of food, which had been set out for him. "And laying in bed – oh, how I love this –"  
  
"Whining won't heal your injuries." She grinned and took the plate into her hands, setting it out on the table beside the bed. He stared at the food dejectedly. "And I don't think glaring at the food will make you any better, either."  
  
He paid no mind to that, instead turning his gaze upon her, one brow hiking upward in mild curiosity. "What are you doing?"  
  
"We've uncovered another facial mural," She glanced between the food and him, wiping her hands off upon the towel dangling from the aforementioned pocket upon her skirt. She picked a steamed carrot of the top of a pile of vegetables and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking once more. "It's –"  
  
"Can I see?"  
  
"No." She beamed and, after scooping her blankets up from the chair she had slept upon, she dumped them upon him. "You have to stay here. You can keep my bed warm for me."  
  
"My leg hurts." He almost pouted as he dug his way out of the blankets and pushed them aside.  
  
"I need to get back to work." She walked back to the entrance and waved, stepping out once more. "Stay put, Irvine!"  
  
- - - -  
  
"How deep was it?"  
  
"Not very," She shook her head and rubbed gingerly at a curve, which was lathered in dirt, grime and dust, patiently attempting to coax it away. They had an ample amount of the top of the face revealed and, as the Doctor had said before, it did look an awful lot like her. Older, yes, but nonetheless – maybe she was of Zoidian royalty? Her heart jumped at the concept and she had to quietly chide herself to keep from squealing in anticipation at the thought. "Sort of – shallow. It was bleeding profusely, though."  
  
"Then it wasn't shallow." Doctor D flailed around, set off by something – most likely the concept of having a grown man sleeping in the bed of his protégé, or possibly the fact that his protégé had wasted a lot of the day sleeping because of that stupid man! "Where did you find him?"  
  
"He was hiding in this hall." She turned toward him, pulling the mask off her mouth and down to her neck, allowing it to dangle. She pointed toward the area where she had run into Irvine at the night before. "Over there, about."  
  
"I think we should have another tent set up for him." He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin and 'hmm'ed gently.  
  
"I'm fine with him –" She argued, though only to be cut off by a quick motion of the hand. She scrunched her nose up in distaste.  
  
"No," He turned his head aside and looked thoughtfully toward the exit. "I believe there's room in the tent we just recently set up.."  
  
"But we use that for reports." She frowned and canted her head in confusion, breaking away from her work long enough to look back at him. "It would be too loud and, after he had been moved in, too cluttered."  
  
"I'm sure he's gracious for your concern," He looked back, now smiling brightly. He had made up his mind and, as commander of the campsite and excavation, whatever he said goes! "Though he has to."  
  
".. I suppose so." She pursed her lips and willed herself back to her work. Arguing with the Doctor was like arguing with a food-deprived Ban. Winning was impossible. Doctor D beamed and clasped his hands together before him.  
  
"Keep up the work, then!" He turned upon his heel and prepared to exit once more. "I will have him resituated right now."  
  
She kept quiet and watched him leave, silently musing over his choice to decide to not trust a person. Maybe his old age was affecting his mind, or maybe he was becoming overprotective of her, as she was, to the knowledge of most, one of the last of her race.  
  
Who knew?  
  
She pulled the mask over her mouth and turned back to the wall, resuming her work and allowing whatever was about to happen, happen. 


	4. Epiphany - 4

Title: Epiphany.  
  
Rating: R.  
  
Paring: Irvine/Fiona, to an extent.  
  
Notes: Umm. Well, here we are. With another chapter. Whoo!  
  
Hrm. What to say? Well, I guess I'm getting kind of deluded on the storyline. I mean, first, my plans were to have a – well, it wasn't going to be a kissy-kissy romance, I assure you. Now, I don't know what I want it to be. I guess we'll see, right?  
  
Umm.. ^^;; This chapter is also very mentally retarded. *Firm nod* I wrote it on, like, two hours of sleep and two Cappuccino Blasts from Baskin Robins. Mwah. Wired.  
  
- - - -  
  
"OW – woah – HOLY! – PAAIN!" Irvine's screams were the first actual noise to grace the small campsite in quite an ample amount of time. They echoed and reverberated and echoed once more, piercing the forest around them, surrounding them with an insistent, repetitive wail.  
  
Even Doctor D had to cringe at the noise.  
  
"Hush up, Irvine!" Doctor D abruptly gushed and patted him lightly upon the calf. A number of the workers had carelessly heaved him onto a sling, causing the injury to open once again and a small excess of blood to dribble out, much to the horror of Fiona. Irvine snarled at the Doctor. "You're gonna be far more comfortable in this new room!"  
  
"My leg –" He all but pouted as he nearly lunged at Doctor D, aiming to strangle the old man. Being unsurprisingly nubile, though, the Doctor sidled from the arms grasp.  
  
"Will be okay!" Doctor D reassured with a large smile. Somewhere behind them, Fiona cringed and bit her lip. Why is it that this 'moving' looked more like a vindictive action than something as innocent as Doctor D made it out to be?  
  
"It hu –!"  
  
Somewhere along the lines of 'hu' and 'rts,' a sedative kicked in. Irvine suddenly went blank in the face and fell backward, snoring gently. Doctor D beamed and clasped his hands together, "Alrighty! Took a bit longer than we expected it to, but – oh, well! Keep movin'!"  
  
- - - -  
  
"You nearly killed him." Fiona stated matter-of-factly – or, at least, pouted as she leaned through the flap, which eventually gave way to the infirmary / communications room. Doctor D was inside, carefully and grudgingly repatching up the leg of Irvine, who lay, still passed out, upon a cot.  
  
"He fell asleep on his own account." Doctor D shot back indignantly, tossing his head to emphasize it. "Either way, it was well needed. I'm sure – ah, he didn't sleep well with you around."  
  
Naivety was what Fiona may have embodied, though she wasn't that dense. She pursed her lips, glowing a certain shade of red, "We did nothing!"  
  
"Nothing.. or something?"  
  
"I cleaned his wound and afterward, he slept!" She argued – well, not as much 'argued,' as stated truthfully.  
  
"I believe you." He smiled – an obnoxious smile that made that shade of red increase tenfold. "Now, go.. work! I'll be out there in a few minutes!"  
  
She stared, before withdrawing from the tent and obliging. Humph!!  
  
- - - -  
  
The mural on the wall was becoming more and more clear by the day. The face, however, began to look less and less like her by the day, as well. With dirt swept and coaxed from the cracks and small crevices, it began to have more of a masculine face. The hair, once long due to the added, swirled dirt, was now short. The features were foreign to her knowledge. Sallow. Utterly sallow with small, almost beady eyes. From what she could make out, the face wasn't smiling, either.  
  
She heaved a small breath and removed her facemask, her glove following not too far afterward. Rubbing her hand off, just in case, upon her skirt, she afterward licked the tip of her finger and began dampening the area around a certain chunk of mud which simply wouldn't allow itself to be lodged from, strangely, a circular hole just above the right eye.  
  
Staggering behind her caused this action to cease, however. She was quick to turn around and shade her eyes. And immediately gasp, as Irvine was walking – no, stumbling around, nearly collapsing at any given moment – in her direction.  
  
He was panting by the time he reached her; she moved quickly to clear a wooden bench of her supplies for him to sit. He did. "Aw, man – Fiona, as much as I like spending time with you, I'd rather not die."  
  
"Doctor D is treating you that badly?"  
  
"Senile." He caught his breath and closed his eyes, sinking into the incredibly uncomfortable seat thankfully.  
  
"You can't leave with your leg like that," She pointed out, literally and figuratively, and frowned. "You'll hurt yourself worse."  
  
"And I'm not hurting myself worse here?" He cracked open an eye – the one uncovered by his patch, of course - and looked at her. She beamed.  
  
"Nope. You'll stay; I know you won't leave."  
  
"W-Why d'ya say that?" He stared in disbelief, his mouth falling slightly agape.  
  
"You can hardly walk from here to my tent, let alone to your Command Wolf." She demonstrated by wobbling lightly, eventually collapsing against the wall beside him.  
  
"My – where is my Command Wolf?" There was no time to scold her ( though there definitely was time to flush in annoyance. )! His Zoid – his soul! - Was being spoken of! He peered around the hall, expecting its metallic face to pop out from a corner any second.  
  
"Doctor D retrieved it the other day; it's perfectly safe." She grinned and pushed off the wall, brushing her backside off lightly. Freeing one hand from the task, she fanned it out before her, motioning offhandedly in any given direction.  
  
"Where is –"  
  
She was smiling brightly as she interrupted him, her tone almost the exact Doctor D had used when he was speaking to her earlier, "Do you honestly think I'd tell you the location? You might just get up and leave!"  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, though lacked much anything to say. He turned his head aside in disbelief. "Hmph!"  
  
"See?" She patted him lightly upon the knee, before pulling on her gloves and mask once more. Scooping up her brush again, she turned to the wall and began sweeping away. "Now, hush. I have to work, you know?" 


	5. Epiphany - 5

Title: Epiphany. Rating: PG-13. Pairing: Irvine/Fiona. Notes: I can't quit writing. It's my nature to express myself through words. I can't write poetry, though I've tried. I'm a perfectionist. A horrible one. Who can't do what she wants to do properly. But I digress. And persist. To you flamers, I do believe UpsideDown-san phrased it properly when she (he?) said, "Fuck you." I will no longer stand for your blatant, moronic displays of damned Nazism. Quit it. Leave me alone. I'm sure you high and mighty imbeciles have more important things to deal with. By the way, I'd like to thank you all for your kind reviews. For those who asked me to email them, I'll try. I'm relatively busy with school rolling in and an abrupt abundance of real life problems. I'll try, though.  
  
- - - -  
  
His gaze was intent upon her, as she worked.  
  
It was amusing, how infatuation could grow just as one watched another. She moved with swift, knowing, fluid motions - not one pause, not even to breathe - as she worked. Her expressions varied from cheer to determination, as she worked - though not now. It was..  
  
Abnormal.  
  
He felt as though he were in a dream and couldn't place his finger properly upon the details. Everything seemed blurry.  
  
Except for the fact that he was falling in love with her.  
  
She spoke not, her hands deftly moving over the ridges and curves, sweeping away endless amounts of film. It was growing annoying, the dust and dirt, and Zi knows what else, which had gathered upon the face.  
  
No longer was it a simple mural, a plain indentation in the wall, but something far more.. larger. Deeper. It spanned into the wall. It circled about and shaped into something. Her fingers tingled and burned ass he touched it. Her mind screamed it. It couldn't be a lie.  
  
He would have loved to talk. Babbling mindlessly, even, would have been a joy! Something to take his mind away from the throb upon his thigh. He shouldn't have walked the distance - though he had wanted to see her! So terribly. So horribly. The next time, He told himself silently, noting as she bit her lip and muttered something inaudible, I walk out the gates. No more.  
  
"Irvine?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"Could you hand me that pick?"  
  
He hesitated. Why? He hadn't the faintest idea! Though he looked nervously between she and the wall, before taking the object she had requested into his hands. He leant forward and held it out, handle first, to her.  
  
She didn't look away from the wall as her hands sought blindly for the object. And, after a few feeble blind paws at the air, he sated her need for the object with guiding her hand onto it. She breathed some obscure thanks to him, drawing that new object into her work. The other sat, discarded, on the ground beside her foot.  
  
"Messy-messy." He teased lightly, hoping for a response. She seemed so - different, as she worked endlessly at the wall. Not like your typical work determination - if 'determination' and 'work' could be paired in a sentence together - but something different. Stronger and more - belligerent.  
  
She took the time to wedge the pick into the wall where a crevice was. With it stuck in there, sturdy as ever, she bent down and picked up the brush she had dropped and proceeded to carefully tap the handle of the pick, loosening a stiff triangle of dirt.  
  
"You're one to talk." Was her voice tight? She was far more concentrated on the wall than him; maybe it came out just so due to her concentration. She drew the pick out of the crack before it could fall and swiped away at the excess dirt - until she stumbled across a problem, where the brush tip wouldn't dig deep enough into the hole. "Ah - sorry, Irvine. Could you hand me that brush -" He reached for the one nearest and she shook her head. "No, the larger one.. beside it."  
  
He looked between the selection. What difference it made was also, beyond him. They were all the same size - well, for the most part! The only real difference was in the tip and handle. Narrow or round. Fat or thin.  
  
Still, he took up the brush and held it out for her. She, this time, found his hand in a heartbeat, and actually turned away from the wall briefly.  
  
"Hold this, for me." She drew the brush from his hand and replaced it with the pick. He kept quiet, brows knit together in confusion. This was strange..  
  
She faced the wall once more and proceeded forcing the dirt away. When she found the spot to be cleansed enough, she jammed a sole index finger into the hole.  
  
And a good sum of dirt crumbled away, cascading down the face to pool at her booted feet. Falling with that waterfall of dirt and dust, came a lucid, egg-shaped rock. It immediately caught both Irvine and Fiona's eye.  
  
"What's -"  
  
"T-That's -" Her voice was a borderline shriek. It rose to the volume of any normal scream; though she sounded so breathless it hardly could escape her throat. Teetering awkwardly upon her feet, she suddenly stared, determinedly, at the wall. She looked like she was about to fall.  
  
"Fiona..?" He stood up quickly - and regretted it, moments later - to support her. He failed to reach her in time, however, as she sighed loudly and crumpled backward.  
  
- - - -  
  
Have you ever wondered how it all will end?  
  
No..  
  
Not at all? In the slightest? We all will die, you know. It will be horrendous! Yet.. so beautifully horrendous. So much blood! An arc, for you, for I, to bathe in! Have you ever considered that, dear?  
  
Don't talk like that! It's -  
  
It's right. And you know it, don't you?  
  
What -  
  
You see it, don't you? In your dreams. Whenever you close your eyes. When you see him. When you see them. You'll see it a lot more, in a short while. They'll all connect. And then they'll all die.  
  
W-What are you - how can you..?  
  
Revel in it, Alicia Lynette. It is your past, you present, your future. Don't turn your back on it, don't ignore it.  
  
Stop it! It will save us!  
  
No. It will come.  
  
- - - -  
  
"Hey," His voice was a million miles away, though his hands, placed firmly upon either shoulder, was right there, dead center. So far, yet so close. He gently shook her. "Fiona - you alright..?"  
  
"Mmm." She stirred. He wasn't atop of her - he sat beside her and she could see, even through nearly fully lidded eyes, that his expression was of complete shock, complete fear. He looked pale, even. His expression wasn't reassuring and reassurance was something she needed - desperately. Her hands trembled furiously and she could feel her jaw quavering.  
  
"Mmm-yes, or mmm-no?" He returned, his tone teasing, confused. "  
  
"That rock -" She suddenly shot up as he went to move back, accidentally forcing him to put pressure upon his injured leg. Her eyes went wide, as she bent forward to dig through the pile of dirt. "Where is it, Irvine?"  
  
"Right here.." He frowned and held out a hand. It was balled, carefully, within the center of his palm. She took it - though not without gracious thanks, of a full out, though nonetheless chaste, kiss upon the cheek. "Are you alright, Fi'?"  
  
"Fine, thank you." She pushed herself up to her feet, only to find that she wobbled dangerously. Though that seemed to be apart of the whole of everything, in general. To support this theory, she tipped to the side, the hand currently palming the small rock pressing firmly, and roughly against the wall.  
  
Due to the impact of the weight, more dust dribbled from the wall. Which eventually pushed onto a full-blown spill of dirt, clouding the hallway in dust. She made haste to back away, to avoid being fully covered in it, and equal haste to withdraw an extra mask from her apron pocket. She forced it into Irvine's hands and he took it and he was quick to consider grabbing her around the waist and running -  
  
Though that seemed to be the last of their matters. Or worries, or curiosity, as through the thick cloud of dull brown, was a light. So bright and illuminate that it literally brought life to the hallway - shining a brilliance upon everything. Letting no crack go unrevealed.  
  
"Holy shi -"  
  
- - - -  
  
"- So?" His attention had been focused on a small piece of glowing - literally glowing! - stone upon his desk. A dull, subtle blue in hue and relatively translucent. It pulsed and throbbed, mayhap audibly, under his gaze. He looked away, fixating a confused gaze upon her. "It's just a rock, Fiona - many that have been in the ocean for a long while tend to get this way.. sort of.."  
  
"'So'?" She echoed, a hint of incredulity within her voice. "'Just a rock'?" She took his wrinkled, cold hand into her own and gave him a light tug. "Quickly! Quickly!"  
  
"Ah, hold on! I can walk on my - augh!"  
  
Had he have been given the time, he would have proclaimed his ability to walk properly. But she wouldn't allow it. A beaming smile danced upon her face and triumphant excitement surged within her veins. She had found something! Something important, perhaps, at that! 


	6. Epiphany 6 UNEDITED

Title: Epiphany.

Rating: PG-13.

Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.

Notes: Epiphany seems to be.. um. In demand. Oo;; *fright* I never expected _that_ to happen! Oh, well. I can't let you people down, ya know? I'll try to get chapters up, but.. I dunno. I'm lacking in time and I've been working on other things – and to top it off, I've got a horrible cold, which is probably going to progress into the flu. xP

ANYWAY. This is short, because I couldn't think of any other way to end it. It's sort of pointless, too, but. Yeah.

Also, the two chapters following this, as well as this one, are totally unedited. If there are any plotholes, or punctuation/grammar errors, run to someone else to complain: I haven't had time to update, due to being disgustingly sick and I just about over exerted myself trying to FIND these files. xP! Be grateful – I almost killed myself uploading these, blah!

-        -        -        -

_Sweet._

_Do **you** remember the green, Lynette? The smell of it? The feeling of it, as you eased it between your fingers and gave a small tug? It was rather velvety, wasn't it? How about the taste of it, as your naivety took over and you placed the tip into your mouth, nibbling ever so gently upon it?_

_Sour, wasn't it?_

How about the happiness? The sheer radiating joy as someone – anyone – smiled in your direction. As you picked up the dragging tails of your skirt and kicked up your feet, springing into a mindless dance. The nights spent carelessly, lounging beneath a tree, staring at the two moons. Naming them, plotting their territory, imagining you were upon them, while you probably should have been doing more important things?

  
Remember the collapse? The downfall? The anger, the sadness, the hate, the pain, the anguish, the death? The rebirth?

Don't you feel it?

Ever?

What had happened..?

She surely remembered pulling a struggling Doctor D along with her, as she ran, full force, toward the dusted hall. She had been chattering excitedly, quickly, about what she had seen – what was waiting, there, for her. What she _felt_, simply from seeing it—

And then there was nothing.

  
She had vaguely remembered cringing and screaming. And then – nothing. Black had encompassed her and coaxed her into a painless sleep, in which she lacked a dream, lacked a hope, lacked a soul and a life.

But there were words.

She shivered; her eye lashes fluttering. Above her, some where within the light, a voice broke the silence and howled – it sounded relieved. She moaned, a noise hardly audible to those standing around her, her head lolling to the left.

Instead of pillow, or bed, she ran into something stiff.

Which awoke her abruptly and she reared back, eyes wide with fright. Though, only to see that she had been, with lack for better word, cradled. Irvine's lap had been used as a make shift, temporal pillow; comfortable wasn't, exactly, the most proper word, though it did work while she lacked consciousness.

"D-Doctor D..?"

"You're awake!"

  
"What happened?"

"Well," His tone sounded as though he were musing over the thought, as his one hand coaxed lightly at his wrist. A bruise, four thin stripes with one exuding from it and circling about the bottom, was rapidly forming beneath his fingertips. She squinted; a sudden bright light that the others failed to see dotted her vision. ".. I don't know. You were excited, Fiona, I suppose you may have collapsed from that.."

  
"Should we move her..?"

Doctor D sent a brief glance at Irvine.

Panic had clearly risen within him; his cheeks were lightly flushed and within his eyes danced worry. He sat stiff, his legs bent inward Indian-style, and his hands were trembling ever so lightly, subtly hid amidst the pleats of her hair. Though, no longer. He was swallowing hard, as he stared at her back, turned upon him.

_How uncharacteristic_, Doctor D noted with a wan frown. Though, he nodded. "Fiona, can you stand..?"

  
"Why are you ignoring me?!" Her sudden explosion caused the Doctor to tip back a few feet. He eyed her in confusion. "Tell me what happened!"

  
"We're not ignoring you. You simply collapsed and with all the work you've been doing, young lady, it was probably because of exertion!" The concept of her reprimanding him so certainly shocked him, though he couldn't let that be noticed – she had to be worried enough, as it was, and instead, his comment came out as a playful explanation, as a parent would do to a child after having purposely broke their toy and later wonder why.

"B-But.."

"Here." Irvine made haste to get to his feet and offer her both hands. She turned to look at him, frowning.

She realized, abruptly shocking herself, that she loathed looking at him. Her stomach would lurch in the most pleasing of ways whenever she did; it was something she couldn't bring herself to risk, perhaps even stand, doing. Or having. It was unnerving, yet delightful, in all the wrong, horrible ways. In spite of her current position, she found herself growing flustered and red, though her disposition remained the same, "Irvine.."

  
"Well? You're gonna get dirty, sitting in the dirt like that!" He gestured for her to take his hands and, with a bit of hesitation, she took them. Up to her feet she soon was, her fingers still tightly wrapped about his own, even as she stood silent for a good, long moment.

  
"What's wrong..?"

"It's – um." She shook her head lightly, closing her eyes. She silently chided herself; he was injured and, more than likely, he didn't need to be worrying over her. He and the Doctor both didn't need to hear, 'Oh, I'm hearing voices – ones that come with premonitions.' "The dust. I just have a headache."

He smiled at her; not exactly the warmest gesture, surely not comparing in comfort to that of Ban's. It was wolfish in appearance and, amusingly, it came out as more of a leer in her mind above anything else. Though she was quick, perhaps too quick, to return it with glee. Her stomach felt like it was doing back flips. "Should've kept the mask for yourself."

"Maybe." She agreed quietly; something inside of her shook and stirred, and if the feeling weren't so warm, she would have felt nauseous.

_Why are they clinging..?_ Clinging, indeed. Yet had they have to release hands; not, exactly, the most 'obvious' gesture, though an ogling Doctor D found it to be highly annoying. Lifting a hand to rub gently at a dirt smothered brow, he sighed. "C'mon, kiddos, let's get her out of here."


	7. Epiphany 7 UNEDITED

Title: Epiphany.

Rating: PG-13.

Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.

Notes: Oh-ho. Time for controversy to show up.

I do not remember what happened in the first episode of the Guardian Force, so I'm wingin' it. Yeah, I know, 'Damn you, Rinon! Remember! REMEMBER!' But, I'm dying with a fever here! I can hardly keep my eyes open! Leave me aloneee! T___T

-        -        -        -

While their intent was to head directly to the campsite, Doctor D had labeled the area within the corridor unstable. Before they could leave, he sent Irvine off to fetch spikes and a long chord of rope. Still, before they could leave, he made sure to literally tie the opening off.

With that done, they had gone into camp. Silently and rather quickly. Doctor D had grudgingly left them alone, though only after making sure she was within a bed and he was all the way across the tent, before making tracks. And, even then, he kept peeking back through the door, mumbling and sighing.

"What happened?"

"You know already." He shifted awkwardly. Her stare was so intent, so demanding – he felt like cringing and shrinking away, just due to the intensity of it. It was confusing; he should have been the one asking what had happened. "Doctor D told you."

She frowned at him. He was lying through his teeth and she could tell – it was the most blatant thing in the world. She pressed, "Irvine.."

There was something severely wrong with the situation. Why didn't she know? People were prone to failing to remember certain details of consciousness, before they fell, though –

Her breath came in short, abrupt gasps, passing through widely spread lips – a brilliant, triumphant smile. Her hand was still clasped over that of the old man's, who insistently struggled to get away, comically complaining about her ulterior motive: trying to pull his arm off.

"You.. came back with him."

"We're here!" She called, her voice echoing through the lit corridor – and that was all to be said from her. Once she could see the light reflecting off of Irvine's eyes, his faintly pained, though still joyous, expression, she found herself blinking. Shaking. Wobbling and finally releasing the hand of the old man.

"And you were calling for me." He squinted, as though recalling what had happened was a terribly hard thing to do. "And then you couldn't stand. We tried to help you, but.."

"Fiona?" Doctor D began, and Irvine echoed, as she stepped forward slowly. The light pulsed and surged. She gave a small gasp.

Shafts of light began to formulate from within her chest, piercing outward and even multiplying. Her gasp slowly increased, shaping into a whimper, then a whine, before finally, a scream.

"Then – something – happened to you. You –" He made a face. "It was so weird.. You started glowing.."

Both were watching, expressions of mixed horror and deathly fright, as she teetered backward and hit the ground – perhaps the impact was hard, or the dirt was still settling, as when her body did fully hit, a cloud of dust arose and enveloped her.

"And then you laid there," He continued still, exhaling quietly. She still sat positively still, eyes and attention fixed upon him. "All – covered in the dust. And you just kept screaming and screaming until the dust settled. Then.."

For a moment, he stood still, lips trembling – he had lost her, he had lost her, he had lost her..

"You were – out for a few minutes." He finished, shaking his head lightly. He rubbed lightly at the side of his face, smearing the dirt and dust. "And then you woke up."

"What about the.. light?"

  
He paused. What had happened to the light? It had gotten so bright in the room that his eyes stung just from keeping them open. He had blinked and squinted against it, just in time to watch it fade. "It just – went. That was it."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I don't know!" – then, with a hint of annoyance in his voice – "Doctor D," He enunciated, "Didn't tell you."

She  

-        -        -        -

He kept looking around, as though expecting someone to pop out from behind a corner. Paranoid. Paranoid. Still, he progressed forward slowly, inching toward the transmissions tent.

Irvine wasn't in there, that he knew. So, he could make a call. Or, perhaps, two.

He slipped inside, wringing his hands lightly. He was up to the phone in an instant, fingers twitching lightly as he reached forward to tap in the proper set of numbers for whom, exactly, he intended to call.

  
When he did, a young, scowling face, obscured by shafts of awkward darkness, came into view. Doctor D cringed; for a moment, he thought the face belonged to an answering machine, however, the scowl flickered and the man looked down to the Doctor, and he quickly changed his mind.

"Sir.. we're going in for supplies tomorrow. You must attack, but not to kill."

The scowl upon the man's face turned hastily into a grin. He nodded. "Certainly."

-        -        -        -

"I think I need to go back there.."

"You think, but you're not."

  
"Why not?" She whirled about in order to keep from stumbling and stared at him, incredulous.

"Because it'll collapse if you go in there and screw around with that again!"

She paused, froze, as though she had come to some sort of revelation at that statement. It was wholly true, though, again – that warm, trembling feeling arose in her and she pulled her arm from his grasp. Skirting around him, she proceeded toward her bed and sat upon it, quiet and looking a bit dazed.

He felt a pang of guilt at this, though watched, nevertheless. She was trembling, her gaze focused intently upon her lap. He raised a brow; women were weird, but. Shaking any inconsiderate thoughts from his mind, he continued across the tent toward her and lowered herself down onto the bed beside her slowly. "Something's wrong, Irvine.."

"Hey, don't worry about it." He countered, though awkwardly. It was almost instantaneously afterward that she looked up at him and began sobbing. Her noises were strangled and choked and her shoulders shook in ways he thought absolutely absurd for her. He inwardly sighed, more so out of condolence for her than anything else, and awkwardly wrapped his arms about her shoulders, rubbing at patting at her back in an attempt to calm her.

  
Though, it didn't. She found herself propped against him and crying still.

And that was when he realized that he had to leave.


	8. Epiphany 8 UNEDITED

Title: Epiphany.

Rating: PG-13.

Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.

Notes: This is were everything starts getting vague: I'll go as much in depth as I possibly can without fully altering the storyline to the actual series, but otherwise.. it's gonna be a bit hazy.

-        -        -        -

She supposed she had dozed off, while wrapped within his arms that night. Though, he was gone when she awoke and she found herself tucked neatly into her bed, shoes removed and carefully placed to the side.

She had washed her face upon slipping out of bed and _limped_, of all things!, to the closet. She guessed, once more, that she had stepped wrong last night, perhaps while demanding and, maybe even, falling. But, that was of no matter. Picking out the proper attire, she stripped, changed, and then proceeded out of the tent.

  
She could shower in town, she suddenly remembered. They _were_ going for supplies, weren't they? If not, she would have to talk Doctor D into going anyway; she had noted that their food supply was running low the other morning and, among other things, she needed to buy some extra supplies.

  
Outside was rather quiet. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and she knew that most of the men hired to work for them were still sleeping. She dismissed the thought of coffee, knowing it would take too long, and continued on toward where a Gustav and several large, metallic boxes on wheels sat. Doctor D was loading crates of – something into one of those aforementioned metallic boxes. Carrying appendages; carts, if you will.

"'Morning, Doctor D!" Looks like things were going as she wanted them to, that morning. She tipped to the side to peek around a crate, which had been cradled by the withering Doctor.

"Ah, there you are, Fiona! I was wondering when you'd wake up!" He waved and, immediately, the box within his arms tipped toward and the wood, which made up its exterior, splintered and shattered as it made contact with the ground. He laughed nervously, placing one hand behind his head, "Could you help an old man, hm?"

  
"Certainly."

Inside the box had been clumps of dirt and rocks, packed away within containers of all sorts. She gathered them into her arms, before stacking them inside the nearest, empty box.

"Is Irvine coming with us?" She queried innocently enough, as she dusted her hands off upon the front of her dress. To emphasize such a question, she sent a look about the campsite, as though looking for 

  
"Mmm, I'm not sure. I haven't seen him."

"That's strange.." She mused aloud, canting her head faintly. However, she soon shook it, dismissing her thoughts with a smile. "Well, that's okay. Let's go?"

"Go on in ahead of me. I'll give the driver the directions."

  
"Got it!"

He waited, standing silent, as she climbed into one of the back carts. Even still, waiting, he tested the waters: she hadn't left after a good five minutes. He pursed his lips, before hurrying to the front of the Gustav.

The canopy released with a gentle whoosh and, without a word, Doctor D withdrew a paper from amidst the folds of his tunic and handed it to the driver. The driver, a man clad in every day soldier apparel, took the papers, read them over briefly, and nodded.

The old Doctor cast a brief glance up at the sky, perhaps in prayer, before following after Fiona.

-        -        -        -

He stood still, steeling himself against a wave of, perhaps, emotion, which was aiming to crash upon him any given second. His gaze was intent; as he watched Fiona, and then Doctor D, load into the cart; the Gustav slowly veer about the enclosed area, making sure to keep from running into tents, or people, before plodding down a heavily trodden path.

He had to leave. She would have been the first to ask why, he would have bet. Though, with each passing breath that came from her, he found himself falling ever so deeply into – into _something_.

He couldn't _love_ her. He had lost such an ability long ago when – when _she_ had died and he had relied upon Moonbay* for knitting together broken ribs, torn ligaments, stripped hearts. There was no "love" left – only a strong desire for something to further patch up that slit area, hoping it could seal the hole long enough to ease the dull ache, which resided strongly within his chest.

He sighed. They had turned a corner and were heading off out of sight.

Wobbling slightly, he twisted about and ambled carefully back toward the awaiting Command Wolf. The head automatically lowered and he took his time upon getting in and setting himself right.

With a final, rueful glance toward the campsite, he hurried – anywhere, _elsewhere_.

-        -        -        -

They had gone not but two hours from the campsite when she felt, rather than seen, stomping footsteps – perhaps a dozen. However, she had ignored it. They were nearing a town – not the one they had aimed to go to – and Zoids were possibly a popular way of transportation, or protection, within that town.

  
She smiled nervously, nevertheless, and occupied herself with finding things to set into place about the four-walled cart. The interior was like any tent, though less.. stable, in a sense. It wobbled and teetered almost dangerously, though they were both assured that little could truly happen.

"You're limping," The Doctor knocked her out of her thoughts with the light, curious though cautious, tilt of his voice. She glanced from what she had occupied herself with, knitting her fingers amongst themselves as she paced, to him. "You should be sitting, Missy!"

She smiled automatically. "I'm alright."

"No – I'll need you later." This time, more force was in his voice. She had to inwardly chide herself to keep from flinching – it was just parental worry. He motioned to a bed, which had been literally bolted to the floor. "Sit."

She bit her lip to keep from sighing in annoyance. If it wasn't him grumbling and moaning about Irvine, it was about _her_ – true, she enjoyed working with and for him very much, though it got just rather a bit frustrating, with him mulling over her every move.

"I guess I could rest – when are we going to arrive?" She did as he had told and traced her steps back toward the bed, seating herself upon it. He failed to answer her immediately; his gaze darted about the cart and, eventually, to the window just behind him. It was the strangest thing.. "Doctor D..?"

  
"Hmm? Oh – arrival," He closed his eyes and rubbed idly at his chin, fully in thought now. Though, not necessarily upon the subject she had intended. "Shortly, shortly, Fiona, dear. I should think another half an hour, if that."

"Something wrong?" She probed, after a moment of watching him. He simply shook his head.

And that was when a dual set of paws slammed down upon the thick roofing of the cart. With a defiant roar that followed that, a massive slit abruptly formed across the top; Fiona gave a shriek and Doctor D panicked – though certainly didn't feign it.

It didn't stop at simply tearing the metal cart apart. With another roar, it leapt to the second, which carried the crates full of random solidities from the camp site, successfully tipping that onto its side.

Fiona screamed once more, as, following the tipping cart ahead of them, their own began to tip onto two wheels. She was the first to fall, while Doctor D hopelessly clung to one of the many bolted-down pieces of furniture. Vainly, it was: he soon fell and the cart itself fell flat upon its side.

The Gustav was last. Now detached from its cargo, the unnamed Zoid happily attacked, sinking both its fore and front claws into the thick shell and certainly not stopping there. It bit sharply into the cockpit, shattering the canopy, and tipped the Zoid upright. It now stood upon its very back wheels. The Zoid gave a snarl and shook its head about animalisticly.

It seemed that, however, the action would not last very long. From another angle came yet another roar and, slamming head first into the unnamed Zoid was a lion of brilliant blue: it knocked the Zoid to its side, causing the Gustav to be released. The unnamed Zoid didn't stick around for long afterward. Once able to wriggle out from beneath the Liger, it scampered quick and far, avoiding further attacks.

Fiona watched in partial horror and partial happiness, though, in the process, failed to notice the pilot of the Gustav escape to safety, as well as Doctor D's silent mutterings of both annoyance and thanks. The Liger stepped carefully up to the carts and soon lowered its head to the ground, flipping the canopy open. Ban sat inside, without a doubt, and he beamed as he waved.

  
He shoved himself from the tipped cart, paying no mind to Fiona, and grinned cheerfully. "Nice timing, Ban!"

-        -        -        -

A/N: * I am not implying that Irvine and Moonbay were ever a couple. Personally, I loathe such a concept – and not because I am more inclined toward non-cannon. Simply because I think Moonbay is the most depthless, pointless character to ever touch the series. Sure, she is a tiny ( and I do indeed mean "tiny" ) bit of the reason Ban goes on his "adventure" – which, mind you, resulted in far more pain than pleasure – but, otherwise..

However, that's not what the asterisk is for. I was thinking.. when Epiphany is over, should I write a side story about that? For those who failed to catch my drift, Irvine _was_ in love, though the woman he was in love with, died. And, shortly after her death, he had stumbled across Moonbay, who became a, um, reliable shoulder, to put it simply.

NO. IT WILL NOT BE I/M.

Anyway, should I? 'Cause Epiphany should be over in 'bout.. five more chapters? Less, if I can make the upcoming ones excessively long. Okay, between five and ten. I intend for this to be as long as I can humanely manage without dragging it out horribly, because I want to fit everything I have in mind for it in.

But, yeah. Back to the original question: say Irvine loved someone else, but _not_ Moonbay, and she died. Pre-Chaotic Century-based. Should I write a story on that?


End file.
